By morning, Sam had a plan.

Though there was a possibility that it wouldn't work, it was all they had.

Sam and Anna paced the small barn, their footsteps heavy with uncertainty. Nadia and Dean sat quietly on a pile of hay nearby, the soft rustle of straw the only sound breaking the silence.

Nadia could feel Dean's nervous energy radiating from him. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye and noticed his leg shaking, restless like he was fighting against some invisible storm. She knew better than to push him to talk. He'd been through Hell—literally—and it was hard to shake that kind of trauma. It was difficult to believe the angels were bluffing when he'd already been to Hell once, and the haunting memories from that experience clung to him like a shadow.

Dean's nerves were palpable. His leg bounced up and down in a rapid, almost rhythmic movement. Nadia placed her hand on his knee, offering him some silent comfort.

"Hey, babe?" Dean's voice broke through the tension, and Nadia turned to meet his gaze. He reached into his jacket pocket, his fingers fumbling slightly, as if trying to steady himself before pulling out his flask.

"Yeah?" Nadia asked, her voice soft but steady.

Dean held it out to her. "Take it before I go to town," he said with a half-hearted grin, his eyes betraying the nervousness beneath his attempt at humor.

Nadia nodded lightly and accepted the flask. "Okay," she said, slipping it into her pocket. Then, with a reassuring pat on his leg, she leaned in close, her voice low and comforting. "You're gonna be fine, don't worry."

Dean met her gaze, a small, grateful smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Sam's voice interrupted the moment, bringing them both back to the task at hand. "I don't know, guys," he said, his tone serious as he walked over to them, his brow furrowed with concern. 

Dean shrugs, a casual yet pained expression on his face. "Hey, she's your Hell buddy."

Sam's eyes are narrowed with concern, his brows furrowed in a mix of anxiety and frustration. He had sent Ruby to help with the plan, knowing it was risky, and now, he couldn't shake the fear that he'd sent her straight to her death.

Suddenly, the wind picks up, whipping through the barn. The doors fly open with a deafening creak, and in strides Castiel and Uriel, their presence unmistakable. Uriel, always the dramatist, wore Anna's grace around his neck, a vial hanging like a twisted trophy—a cruel display.

The group stands frozen for a moment, the air thick with tension. The doors slam shut behind them, and silence reigns. Everyone exchanges a mixture of wary glances, uncertain of what comes next.

"Hello, Anna," Castiel's voice breaks the silence, calm but weighted. "It's good to see you again."

Anna doesn't answer, her gaze fixed on the ground as if trying to process everything all at once. Her lips tremble but remain silent.

"How?" Sam's voice is shaky as he steps forward, his eyes scanning Castiel with a desperation that betrays his fear. "How did you find us?"

Castiel's eyes shift to Dean, who stands off to the side, an apologetic look on his face.

"Dean?" Sam's voice is incredulous.

"I'm sorry," Dean mutters, his tone low with regret.

"Why?" Sam asks, his heart racing as the reality of the situation sinks in.

"Because they gave him a choice," Anna interjects, her voice surprisingly steady, though it carries a weight of sadness. "They either kill me... or kill you." Her eyes shift to Nadia. "I know how their minds work."

Nadia stares at Anna, pain evident in her eyes. "I didn't know. I really wanted to—"

Anna steps forward, cutting her off gently. "It's okay," she says, pulling Nadia into a heartfelt embrace. "You did the best you could."

Nadia hugs her back, the warmth of Anna's arms momentarily pulling her into a simpler time, back when they were both younger. She remembers coloring and playing with her fairy friend, Anna always being there, her protector and confidante. 

Anna pulls back, her hands holding Nadia's with surprising tenderness. "Don't forget to live, okay?"

Nadia nods, her voice small but resolute. "I won't."

Anna turns to face her brothers, her posture stiffening with resolve. "Okay. No more tricks. No more running. I'm ready."

Castiel's expression softens, a rare moment of remorse flashing in his eyes. "I'm sorry."

"No," Anna says, shaking her head. "You're not. Not really. You don't know what it feels like."

Castiel hesitates, clearly at a loss for words. "Still, we have a history. It's just—"

"Orders are orders," Anna interrupts, her tone firm but resigned. "I know. Just make it quick."

Just as Castiel steps toward her, a cold voice echoes from the shadows. Alastair materializes behind Nadia, flanked by two demons who are dragging Ruby by the arms. Ruby is barely conscious, blood staining her clothes, and her body looks battered from the brutal treatment. She can barely stand on her own, her legs buckling under the strain.

"Don't you touch a hair on that poor girl's head," Alastair growls, his voice a low snarl.

The room instantly goes still, the tension shifting from zero to a thousand. Everyone's instincts kick in as they prepare for the inevitable clash.

Uriel steps forward first, his fists clenched, rage bubbling just beneath the surface. "You son of a bitch," he spits. "How dare you come in here—"

"Name-calling?" Alastair interrupts, raising an eyebrow mockingly. "That hurt my feelings." He steps toward Uriel, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "You sanctimonious, fanatical prick."

The air crackles with the promise of violence as the two enemies face off, their hatred palpable. Nadia and Anna instinctively move to push the boys out of harm's way, ushering them to the side as the tension escalates.

Alastair's demons, ready for a fight, toss Ruby aside carelessly. She cries out in pain as she hits the ground, but she struggles to crawl away, seeking cover behind a nearby pile of hay bales.

Uriel sneers, looking down at Ruby's beaten form before turning his scorn on Alastair. "You really think we're just going to stand here and let you do this?" he growls.

"Sure," Alastair says, his lips curling into a smirk. "Just give us the girl. We'll make sure she gets punished good and proper."

There was a tense moment, a heartbeat of stillness, as both sides waited for one to make the first move. The air crackled with the promise of violence, the kind that only demons and angels could bring.

Uriel broke the silence, his powerful form moving with divine speed as he shoved the demon on the right into a nearby wood post. The demon grunted, disoriented, and crumpled to the ground. 

The second demon rushed in, attempting to join the fight, but Uriel was faster, delivering a solid punch that sent the demon sprawling backward, his head bouncing off the ground. 

Uriel wasted no time, summoning the power of Heaven to smite the first demon, reducing it to ash in a burst of blinding light.

Castiel was already in the thick of it, his grace flaring as he threw heavy right and left hooks at Alastair. The demon laughed darkly, dodging most of Castiel's blows with ease. 

Castiel's attempts to smite him were useless—the high-level demon shrugged off the divine energy with a sickening grin.

"Sorry, kiddo," Alastair sneered, his voice dripping with mockery. "Why don't you go run to daddy?" He twisted in Castiel's grip, breaking free with a brutal uppercut that sent the angel flying to the ground with a sickening thud.

Alastair wasted no time. He grabbed Castiel by the throat, his fingers digging into the angel's skin, and began chanting in Latin—an exorcism designed to strip Castiel of his vessel.

Dean's eyes went wide, a flash of pure rage flashing across his face. Nadia could see it clearly—the raw desperation in his gaze. It was a look she knew well, the one he wore when someone he cared about was in danger. He had to do something. The angels pissed him off, sure, but Castiel was different. Castiel had been there, in his own way. The hardest part was facing Alastair.

"I got him," Nadia said, stepping forward, ready to lend a hand.

"No, no, no," Dean snapped, his hand held up in a firm gesture for her to back off. His voice was low, tight with urgency. "Stay back. This one's mine."

Thinking quickly, Dean spotted a crowbar leaning against the wall. Without hesitation, he grabbed it, swinging it with all his might. The heavy metal bar connected with Alastair's face with a sickening crunch, snapping his head back.

Alastair raises his hand with a sneer, and in an instant, both Dean and Sam are wracked with pain, their bodies collapsing to the ground as they clutch their stomachs. The air crackles with malicious energy as they writhe, gasping for breath.

"Damn it!" Dean grits his teeth, struggling to push through the agony, his face contorted with pain.

Nadia's eyes flash with fury. Without hesitation, she bolts forward, her body moving with precision and rage. She leaps onto Alastair's back, grabbing his head in a vice-like grip, her fingers digging into his scalp. His eyes widen in shock, but before he can react, Nadia's power surges. She channels every ounce of her anger, the smite ripping through her and into him.

Alastair screams, the sound of his agony almost drowning out everything else. His hands claw at her arms, but it's futile. The energy coursing through Nadia is unstoppable. His body spasms as she forces her will upon him, and the air around them hums with divine retribution.

Meanwhile, Uriel stands with grim determination, his focus unwavering as he continues the exorcism on the other demon, his voice low and commanding. "You will not escape," he intones, his words echoing with power.

Anna, sensing the window of opportunity, doesn't hesitate. She moves swiftly, darting toward the demon's neck, where the vial containing her grace is hanging precariously. Her fingers close around it with surprising gentleness, but her resolve is unwavering.

"No!" the demon hisses, his voice raspy with rage as he struggles against the power that's crushing him. "You can't—"

But Anna is already twisting the vial, her eyes steely. In one fluid motion, she flings it to the ground, watching as it shatters into a thousand shards, the icy blue energy spilling out and swirling around her. The group watches, frozen, as the energy coalesces into a glowing, ethereal stream that curls toward Anna's lips.

The moment the energy enters her mouth, everything goes still.

For a heartbeat, there is nothing but the thick hum of raw power hanging in the air, a presence so palpable it seems to freeze time itself.

"Shut your eyes!" Anna's voice cracks through the stillness as she struggles to rise. "Shut your eyes! Shut your eyes!"

Nadia's breath catches as Alastair swings her off his back, his desperation to stop Anna failing as the blast hits. The pulse of energy rips through the air, swallowing both Anna and Alastair's goons in its wake. Ruby's knife, once a weapon in the fight, is left forgotten on the ground.

"Baby?" Dean's groggy voice breaks through Nadia's dazed senses. He crawls over to her, his hands steadying her as he sits her up. "Baby, you okay?"

Nadia pants, her chest heaving as she struggles to focus, blinking slowly, trying to clear the fog. She didn't get the kill, but the toll on her body is heavy, exhaustion threatening to pull her under. Her head spins.

"Baby, talk to me. You okay?" Dean's voice softens, a raw edge of worry cutting through his words.

Nadia takes a shaky breath, nodding slowly as she tries to focus on him. The world is still spinning, but she can manage.

"You sure?" Dean presses, his tone insistently gentle.

Nadia gives a small nod again, though it's clear from the way her body slumps that she's barely holding it together.

"Come on," Dean says, his voice firm now as he helps her to her feet. "I got you." His arm slides around her, steadying her, and he helps her walk. Every step feels like it takes every ounce of energy she has left, but somehow, she keeps moving.

The three of them, weary and bloodied, stand side by side. Uriel and Castiel are panting, watching them from a few feet away, a final confrontation hanging in the air.

"Well, what are you guys waiting for?" Dean calls out, his voice laced with challenge. "Go get Anna... unless, of course, you're scared."

"This isn't over." Uriel steps forward, fists clenched, a cold fury in his eyes as he moves to strike. But Castiel, ever the reluctant soldier, steps forward and places a hand on Uriel's arm, halting him.

"Oh, it looks over to me, junkless," Dean quips, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth despite the tension.

Castiel shares a brief, unreadable look with Dean before he nods, his expression softening just enough to show a hint of relief. Without another word, they take to the sky, vanishing into the air, leaving behind nothing but the aftermath.

The three of them stand there for a moment, catching their breath as the tension finally starts to lift.

Sam, ever the practical one, picks up the demon knife, his movements careful, deliberate. Ruby limps over, her blood-soaked shirt clinging to her as she stumbles toward them.

"You okay?" Dean asks, his concern palpable.

"Not so much," Ruby replies, her voice strained. She winces, clearly trying to hold herself together despite the obvious toll of the battle.

Dean nods, his eyes briefly softening in understanding. But then, his tone turns pointed, his irritation rising. "What took you so long to get here?" he asks, his voice biting, though it's more out of frustration than anger.

Ruby meets his gaze, a dry laugh escaping her as she shrugs. "Sorry I'm late with the demon delivery. I was only being tortured."

Dean's eyes narrow, but he doesn't have the energy to argue. Instead, he looks to Sam, his expression shifting from concern to appreciation. "I got to hand it to you, Sammy. Bringing them all together all at once—angels and demons. That was a damn good plan."

Sam, a small smile tugging at his lips, nods, sharing a look with Ruby. "Yeah, well, when you've got Godzilla and Mothra on your ass, it's best to get out of their way and let them fight."

Dean chuckles, shaking his head. "Yeah, now you're just bragging."

Ruby glances over at Nadia, who's blinking slowly, exhaustion clearly taking its toll. "Is she gonna be okay?"

Nadia's response comes slowly, her voice faint and tired. "I'll be fine. I just need to rest."

Dean gives her a concerned look but doesn't argue. "Let's get out of here." He wraps an arm around her waist, helping her toward the car. Sam and Ruby follow close behind, each of them weary but relieved.

"I can't believe we made it out of there," Dean said, leaning against the car with a beer in hand. He glanced over at Sam, who was sitting next to him on the hood of the Impala, the sunlight reflecting off his face as he took a swig from his own bottle.

Nadia was in the back seat, sound asleep as her body regenerated. 

"Again," Sam recalled with a look of disbelief, his brow furrowing slightly.

They clink their beer bottles together, a hollow sound breaking the quiet before they both take a long swig. The weight of the moment settles between them, thick and unspoken.

Dean sighs deeply, staring into the bottle, a frown deepening on his face. "I know you heard him."

Sam glances at him, the concern in his eyes sharp. "Who?"

"Alastair. What he said... about how I had promise."

Sam looks down, his jaw tightening. "I heard him."

Dean's eyes flicker to Sam's face, his voice low and hesitant. "You're not curious?"

"Dean, I'm damn curious," Sam says matter-of-factly, not missing a beat. "But you're not talking about Hell, and I'm not pushing."

Silence falls between them, heavy and thick. Dean nods, a quick, tight movement, before he takes another swig of his beer. His mind clearly far away, lost in memories too dark to fully bear.

"It wasn't four months, you know," Dean says, his voice almost imperceptible at first, but carrying a weight that demands attention.

Sam looks up at him, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "What?"

Dean's eyes shift toward the horizon, as though seeking something to anchor him back in the present. "It was four months up here... but down there... I don't know. Time's different. It was more like forty years."

Sam's stomach churns. "Oh, my God."

Dean stares ahead, not really seeing anything in front of him as the memories flood back. The air around him seems to get thicker, the weight of Hell's suffocating heat pulling him under again. "They... uh... they sliced and carved and tore at me in ways that you... until there was nothing left. And then, suddenly..." His voice falters, cracking as if just the thought of it is enough to shatter him all over again.

"I would be whole again... like magic... just so they could start all over."

Sam holds his breath, his own heart hammering as he watches his brother crumble under the invisible weight of his past. Dean's face twists with a pain too deep for words, his eyes glossing over with the memories of endless torment.

"Alastair... at the end of every day... every one... he would come over. And he would make me an offer." Dean's voice trembles as he speaks, the words heavy with regret. "To take me off the rack... if I put souls on... if I started the torturing." His breath hitches, the shame in his words palpable. "And every day, I told him to stick it where the sun shines. For thirty years, I told him."

Sam's face softens, his own throat tightening. He knows Dean has carried this burden alone for so long, but hearing it laid out like this... it makes the pain of it real, raw.

Dean's eyes water, and Sam can't help but feel the air between them thicken with grief. "But then I couldn't do it anymore, Sammy. I couldn't. And I got off that rack."

Sam turns his head, fighting the sting in his eyes. His jaw clenches, his heart in his throat. Dean's pain is too familiar, a shadow he's carried with him every day, but hearing it spoken aloud is like a wound opening again.

"God help me, I got right off it, and I started ripping them apart," Dean says in a whisper, the devastation in his eyes like a wound that never healed. "I lost count of how many souls." His voice cracks, the shame too much to hold in. "The... the things that I did to them."

Sam swallows hard, his own tears threatening to spill. He reaches out, his hand finding Dean's shoulder, grounding him, trying to offer some small comfort in the overwhelming silence. "Dean..." Sam's voice is hoarse as he struggles to get the words out. "Dean, look, you held out for thirty years. That's longer than anyone would have."

Dean takes a wavering breath, wiping his face.